


The Strange Case of the Cheese-Shop That Did Nothing in the Night-Time

by gardnerhill



Category: Monty Python's Flying Circus, Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, The Strange Case of the End of Civilisation As We Know It (1977 John Cleese Holmes parody)
Genre: Cheese, Community: watsons_woes, Crack, Crossover, Gen, Prompt Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-13
Updated: 2014-07-13
Packaged: 2018-02-08 15:35:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1946598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gardnerhill/pseuds/gardnerhill
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s a bizarre and silly 1970s murder – and for that you need a bizarre and silly 1970s Sherlock Holmes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Strange Case of the Cheese-Shop That Did Nothing in the Night-Time

**Author's Note:**

> For the 2014 July Watson’s Woes Prompt #12: **Imported cheese.** Whether it's actual fromage from another country, or dairy product that has been imported from someplace unexpected, or simply a sense of humor from a foreign land, it's up to you.
> 
> The Sherlock Holmes 'verse is John Cleese's 1977 TV film _The Strange Case of the End of Civilisation As We Know It_.

Arthur Sherlock Holmes looked at the sign over the crime scene.

  
**HENRY WENSLEYDALE**   
**Purveyor Of Fine Cheese To The Gentry**   
**~ And The Poverty-Stricken Too ~**   
**(Licensed for Public Dancing)**

  
“I wonder what they sell in here,” Watson said. Holmes closed his eyes for a moment.

Inside, the cheese-shop was much like any other, save perhaps for the two British businessmen Greek-dancing in the corner whilst a third played a bouzouki. “Hello, chaps, what are you doing?” Watson said jovially to them as Holmes walked past, shaking his head, to examine the body.

Mr. Wensleydale lay behind the counter, shot once between the eyes. Murder, plain enough – even the magically-dim Watson could figure that one out. Perhaps.

Holmes sat back on his heels and wished for a pipeful of Salisbury Gold. Or at least for the bloody bouzouki player and the two dancing businessmen to be a bit quieter so he could think. “Watson?”

His partner, staring bemusedly at all the lovely, clean ceramic and glass cheese trays and bell-jars, turned around. “Yes, Holmes?”

Holmes looked around at the wooden cutting trays and knives as the theory began to form. “I need your bionic nose on this one.  Tell me what kind of cheeses you can smell in here.”

Watson nodded, smiling vacantly, and began drawing in long breaths through the only part of him that was actually bloody useful during a crime investigation. A perturbed look grew on his face and only grew … perturbier.

Holmes nodded. “Applewood?”

“No, Holmes.”

“Basing?”

“No.”

“Cheshire?”

“No.”

“Devon Blue?”

“No.”

Twenty minutes later, Holmes had gotten through every British cheese. Watson still sniffed, frowning.

Fortunately, the businessmen had stopped dancing and the bouzouki player had stopped as well. Unfortunately, they stared at Arthur with expressions of dismay and fear.

Holmes sighed. “Abbaye de Belloc?”

“No,” said Watson. He continued to sniff the air of this clean, pristine cheese-shop – clean save for the dead man.

“Baguette Laonnaise?”

“No.”

“Cabecou?”

“No, Holmes.”

A long pause. One of the dancers had left the shop – fled, more like it. “Danish Feta?”

“No.”

And half an hour later, no Zanetti Parmigiano Reggiano either. (The bazouki player and the other dancer were gone also.)

Nothing British; nothing imported. Some lovely cheese boards, cheese-savers and cheese trays. But not a scrap nor curd of actual cheese anywhere in the shop.

Holmes nodded. “An angry customer,” he said. “Obvious.”

That was when the dancers and the bazouki player came back with a squad of police. “That’s him, Constable!” one of the dancers cried, pointing to Holmes. “He was wearing a poloneck instead of that idiotic hunting cap, but I saw him shoot the shop-man!”

“Holmes!” Watson exclaimed.

“It’s a fair cop,” Holmes said to the camera as the police hauled him away.


End file.
